Good Together
by allthingsdecent
Summary: What if Cuddy had taken Vogler's money and fired House?


Good Together

**Not gonna lie. This is not one of my better fics. I've been trying to break free of fics that take place entirely in either the hospital or House's apartment/Cuddy's house. So, well, epic fail here.**

**But I thought the premise was kinda intriguing/cute and I hope you all take it in the spirit with which it is offered: As your weekly dose of Huddy from me. Warning: Season 1 hair ahead. xo, atd**

A distracted Edward Vogler bumped right smack into House, just as he was on his way to the board meeting that would cement House's fate.

"What are you doing here?" Vogler said, snidely.

"I'm lost," House said. "Either that or I work here."

"I just meant, I'm surprised you're not packing up your office."

"Why would I pack up my office?" House retorted. "My office isn't going anywhere."

"Your office may not be going anywhere, but you certainly are."

"That's true. I'm going to my patient's room. Excusez-moi."

He started to limp past him.

"Better start thinking about turning over your patient's records to one of your fellows, "Vogler said. "Because you're going to be out work in"—he looked at his watch—"approximately 45 minutes."

House stopped, unable to resist taking the bait.

"It's cute how you actually believe that," he said.

"It's delusional how you don't."

"The thing is," House said, facing him. "I know something that you don't."

"Oh, this should be good."

"Dr. Lisa Cuddy has integrity. I realize that's a foreign concept to you. I'll spell it out: In-teg-ri-ty. Means she can't be bought and sold. So I hoped _you _packed up your office." Then almost to himself, he said, "I imagine it's filled with bags of cash. And possibly a pet snake."

Instead of replying, Vogler just looked at him and laughed, a big laugh that came deep from his belly.

"Ho ho ho," House said, mocking him. "What's so damn funny?"

"I had no idea you were so naïve, House. Everyone can be bought."

"I can't."

"You're a social deviant. Everyone else can. Even your precious Dr. Cuddy."

"We'll see about that," House said.

"Yes," Vogler said. "We most certainly will." Then he smiled, in a self-impressed way: "I find in these sorts of scenarios, the better man usually prevails."

"Then I should have this thing in the bag."

######

About two hours later, Cuddy made her way to House's office. She stood outside for several minutes, steeling herself, then inhaled and entered.

He was swiveling on his chair, throwing a tennis ball—not "bally," a smaller one, standard neon yellow—hard against the wall and catching it.

He stopped when he saw her.

"You look 100 million dollars lighter," he said.

"What?" she said, taken aback.

"Actually, you look upset," he said. "I don't blame you. It's tough saying no to all that money."

Cuddy felt herself flush.

"House, I. . ."

"I know you're questioning yourself right now," he said. "But in a few days, you'll realize you did the right thing. For everyone. Nobody liked that jacka—"

Just at that moment, Edward Vogler came striding through the door, looking every bit the master of his domain.

"Why is he still here?" he said.

House squinted at him.

"Why are _you_ still here?"

Vogler turned to Cuddy.

"He doesn't know?" he said, a tiny pleased smile playing at his lips.

"Know what?" House said, turning to Cuddy.

"I was just about to tell him," Cuddy said, softly.

"Cuddy, know what?" House said, cagily.

"House. . .I. . ."

"You're fired," Vogler said. "The board voted unanimously. You have 24 hours to clear out your office."

House's mouth dropped open. He looked at Cuddy, in amazement.

"You let him. . .buy you?" he said.

"Not me, House. The hospital. Those 100 million dollars will save so many lives. I had to put the needs of the patients first. House, I'm so so sorry."

House continued to gape at her, like it still hadn't really sunk in.

"And Wilson?" he said, finally.

"Your little sidekick got a last minute reprieve," Vogler said. "Unlike you, he's got some friends on the board."

House nodded.

He looked at Cuddy again, then swallowed hard.

"I'll be out of here by the morning," he said.

######

She got his address from HR and knocked on his apartment door the next night.

"Are you here to give me my job back?" he said, when he saw her.

"No," she admitted.

"Then good night," he said, starting to close the door.

"House, please," she said, catching it. "At least give me a chance to apologize."

"No need to," he said tersely. "You said it yourself: You did what you thought was in the best interest of the hospital."

"That doesn't mean it was easy. That doesn't mean I haven't second guessed myself a hundred times since yesterday."

"Guilt sucks," he said, closing the door for real.

"House please," she said. Her voice was slightly muffled through the door and it was quavering, too, like she was on the verge of tears. "Please let me talk to you."

"_Shit_," he muttered.

He opened the door.

Then he finally took a moment to really look at her. She was dressed differently from the smart business suits and efficiently pulled back hair she usually wore at work: She was wearing a gauzy, oversized gray sweater, tight dark jeans, and heels. Her hair was loose and it curled a bit at the bottom.

It wasn't that he ever, for a second, forgot how pretty his boss—scratch that, _ex_-boss—was, but he had to admit, she looked particularly alluring tonight.

"Come in, I guess," he said warily.

"Thank you," she said. Then she wrinkled her nose in the direction of the couch: "Can we. . .sit down?"

"No, I think it's better if we stand," House said.

"Oh, uh … okay."

"I'm just kidding Cuddy. Have a seat. I'll make you a drink. I have scotch, scotch, or scotch."

"I'll take scotch," she said.

"Excellent choice."

He poured two glasses, handed her one.

"Unburden yourself," he said, sitting in a chair opposite of her, folding his arms.

She took a sip, pretended that it wasn't too strong for her. Under different circumstances, he might've smiled at her brave face.

"I like your apartment," she said, feeling awkward. It was true. It was . . .perfect, in its own way. The very essence of understated masculinity.

"A shame. I'm probably going to have to sell it," he said.

"House!" she said, shocked.

"Out of work people tend to have a tough time paying their mortgages," he said.

"But you're okay with money, right? Because if you need some help I could. . ." Ridiculously, she began fumbling for her purse.

"I'm fine with money," he said, evenly. "I was just kidding."

"Oh," she said. Then she inhaled: "House, I really am so sorry."

"You said that already."

"I didn't know what to do. It was an impossible choice. I had to do what I thought was right for the hospital. And to be perfectly honest I couldn't let my . . .personal feelings for you cloud my judgment."

"Personal?" he said, arching an eyebrow.

She straightened up a bit on the couch.

"Well yes," she said. "Considering our friendship. And considering our"—she struggled for the right word—"history together."

"And what a fine history it was," he said, with a tiny smile. "I always took a perverse pleasure in knowing that I earned my job on the casting couch."

"That's not why I hired you and you know it!" she said, with a tiny laugh.

"No, as you've told me many times: You hired me because I was a good doctor and you got me cheap."

"That wasn't it either," she said, taking another sip. She had adjusted to the harshness of the scotch. It felt more mellow going down now. "Hiring you was the . . bravest thing I ever did. I knew you were a genius. And I knew you hated authority. I wasn't sure I could. . .handle you. And then I thought, 'Lisa, if you can't handle the best medical mind of his generation, you don't deserve to be dean of medicine.'"

"Now you're just flattering me," House said.

"False modesty doesn't become you, House," Cuddy said. "You know how good you are."

"Well, in that case, I guess we found out what the best medical mind of his generation was worth to you. Less than 100 million dollars."

Cuddy sighed.

"I feel like I let you down," she said.

"That's because you did."

"It's not like you helped matters," she said, sharply. "That horrible speech, undercutting Vogler at every possibly chance."

"He's a bully and a fraud," House said. "I don't suck up to bullies and frauds."

"You don't suck up to anybody."

"Vogler's a bad man. Lie down with dogs and you wake up crushed by the dog."

"I'm pretty sure the expression is, You wake up with fleas," Cuddy corrected.

"Have you seen Vogler?" House cracked. "He's huge."

Cuddy shook her head.

"I didn't choose Vogler," she said. "I chose his $100 million."

"They're one and the same."

She looked at him.

"Not everyone can be like you, House!" she said. "Sometimes in this life you have to compromise. You have to do what's right in the long run, even if it means kissing up to bullies and hypocrites in the short term. It sucks. It's hard to swallow. But it's the way of the world."

"Like I said," House said. "I understand. You did what you had to do."

"I guess I did,"

"So finish your thought from before," he said, leadingly. "About personal feelings."

Cuddy blushed a bit. Of course he wasn't going to let her drop that one.

"I guess I sometimes worry that my …affection for you clouds my judgment. I let you do crazy procedures I wouldn't let _anyone_ else get away with. I let you say incredibly inappropriate things to me I wouldn't let _anyone_ else get away with."

"We have fun," House said, smiling a bit.

"Yes, we do. I enjoy our working relationship. I get a little charge from going toe to toe with you every day. I admit it. And that's why I had to put aside my personal feelings and do what was right for the hospital. Firing you was a sacrifice. A sacrifice I made for the greater good."

"Does it strike you as at all curious that this greater good you speak of, ends up aligning you with you a very bad man?"

"Yes," she said honestly.

She closed her eyes for a second. She felt like they had reached an impasse.

"So what are you going to do?" she said finally.

"I've always wanted to take up macramé," he said.

"I'm serious."

"I don't know, Cuddy. Sulk. Feel sorry for myself. Lick my wounds. Then I'll figure something out."

"I can write you letters of recommendation. Make phone calls. I have a lot of contacts. I can get you another job. I'm sure of it," she said eagerly.

"I don't need your help," he said.

Male pride, Cuddy thought. Such a useless emotion.

"No, of course not," she said. "I'm just saying. . . if you did. I'm here for you. Always."

They stared at each other for a long time. It was House who broke first.

"It's getting late," he said.

"Yeah, you're right," she said. She put the half finished scotch down on the coffee table and stood up. "House, I really am. . ."

"Sorry," he finished.

"I am," she said.

"Me too."

She grabbed her purse. Then looked at him meaningfully.

"House, I didn't regret hiring you. Not for one second. I only regret how things had to . . .end."

He opened the door and let her out.

As he heard her footsteps getting farther and farther away down the hall, he had a knot in his stomach. He felt, absurdly, like he was going to cry.

#####

For the first board meeting since they had fired House, Cuddy and Vogler sat on opposite sides of the long table, in a kind of metaphorical and literal faceoff.

The agenda was ticked off with little fanfare, until the subject, inevitably, turned to the aftermath of House's departure.

"I propose we promote from within the department," Vogler said. "I think Robert Chase would be an excellent candidate."

"I propose we fold the department and reassign his fellows elsewhere," Cuddy said, much to everyone's surprise.

"Fold the diagnostics department?" Vogler said, incredulous. "It's the most prestigious department in this entire hospital."

"For one reason," Cuddy said. "And his name is Gregory House. Now that he's gone. . .thanks to Mr. Vogler, I see no reason to continue with his work."

"I'm sure his fellows are perfectly capable. . ." Vogler argued.

"No, actually they're not," Cuddy said. "They're all good doctors. Great doctors, even. But they're not House. There's no such thing as a Diagnostics Department. I invented it to accommodate his unique genius."

"Being a genius is no excuse for displaying antisocial behavior," Vogler said.

"Neither is being a billionaire," Cuddy muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Vogler said.

Wilson, who was sitting a few seats away from Cuddy, tried to telepathically convey a message to her: _no, no, no, no._

"I said, 'neither is being a billionaire,'" Cuddy said, her eyes flashing.

Wilson put his head in his hands.

"Explain yourself," Vogler said, gritting his teeth.

"We had the best doctor in the country and because you couldn't get along with him, because he bruised your ego, you fired him."

"I didn't fire him," Vogler said. "The board fired him."

"You throw around your money and people bend to your will. You're a bully. That doesn't mean it's the right thing."

"You do realize that this is the very kind of behavior that got your good friend Dr. House fired?"

"Are you threatening me?" Cuddy seethed.

"I'm stating a fact," Vogler said.

Wilson looked around the room, helplessly.

"Okay, I think if everybody could just take a moment and calm down. . ." he said.

Cuddy ignored him.

"So this is the way it's going to be around here from now on?" she said. "Any time somebody dares to disagree with you, their job is on the line? What's next? Firing squads?"

"You're just like him," Vogler said, shaking his head. "I should've known. I once asked if you were sleeping together. It's worse. You're actually in love with him."

Cuddy's face turned a deep shade of crimson—more out of anger than embarrassment.

"That is extremely inappropriate," Cuddy said. "And sexist. And, what's more, utterly beside the point. My admiration for Dr. House _as a doctor_ is completely justified and has nothing to with any personal feelings I may or may not have for him."

"So you let him run around this hospital like Jack Nicholson in _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_!"

"It takes a special kind of hospital to accommodate his special kind of genius. I know that. But I think the results speak for themselves."

"Results? The binders filled with patient grievances? The malpractice suits? The HR complaints?"

"The lives he's saved!"

"So the rest of that stuff doesn't matter?"

"I'm not saying it doesn't matter," Cuddy said, pursing her lips. "You said so yourself, his is the most prestigious department in the hospital. On balance, we get far more grateful donations than angry lawsuits. All I'm saying is, we have to weigh the pros and cons. And in my opinion, the pros far outweigh the cons."

"If Charles Manson were also a great doctor, should we hire him too? See if there's an opening in pediatrics?"

"That is an absurd analogy!" Cuddy said.

"No more absurd than you letting an emotional adolescent run roughshod all over this hospital."

"Better an emotional adolescent than a fascist!" Cuddy said.

One of the trustees actually gasped.

"_Oh shit_," Wilson muttered under his breath..

Vogler glared at her, then he began chuckling, malevolently.

"It makes sense," he said. "You hired the madman. Of course you're as crazy as he is."

Then he looked up, addressing the room. "I move that we suspend Dr. Lisa Cuddy, immediately, until we decide on the best course of action. As trustees it is, in fact, our sacred trust to protect the best interests of this hospital. The inmates have been running the asylum far too long."

"This is bullshit," Cuddy said.

"You all chose, reasonably in my opinion, to dismiss Dr. House." Vogler continued. "I now see that, until we strip Dr. Cuddy of her authority, this hospital will never run smoothly."

The room was silent.

"Is anyone going to second my motion?" Vogler said, getting irritated.

"Absolutely not!" Wilson sputtered.

"Well then," Vogler said, standing up. "I guess I'll just take my $100 million to a hospital that is more grateful."

"I second the motion," one of the trustees said, finally.

Vogler sat back down: "Thank you. Let's vote."  
#####

That night, Wilson called House.

"So did you hear?" he asked.

"Hear what?"

"About Cuddy?"

"If her ass finally split one of her skirts right down the middle and you didn't take a photo, you're dead to me."

"I guess not then," Wilson said. "She was suspended."

"_What_?"

"Yeah. She and Vogler had a big face off at the board meeting. You'll never guess the subject."

"Me?"

"Bingo. Anyway, it got ugly. She said she wanted to fold the diagnostic department and reassign your fellows."

"Reasonable," House shrugged.

"He wanted to keep it going, because it brings in grant money."

"Of course. And?"

"She accused him of being a bully. He accused her of being in love with you. Then he called you an emotional adolescent and she called him a fascist. Then he said that the inmates were running the asylum. She said a little madness was necessary to achieve greatness. There was a vote to suspend her. Three-quarters of the board voted yes. The official vote to fire her happens next week."

"He said she was . . . in love with me?" House said.

Wilson gave a grim chuckle.

"That's _all _you took away from that?"

"No, of course not. I mean. I just. . .How did she respond?"

"She didn't flat out deny it, come to think of it," Wilson said, musingly. "She said it was beside the point."

"Also reasonable," House said. "So what happens next?"

"Like I said, the final vote is next week. I'm telling you right now: If Cuddy's gone and you're gone, I'm gone," Wilson said. "We can job hunt together, offer our services as a package deal. I'm sure there's a big market out there for an oncologist, a diagnostician, and a hospital administrator."

"Sounds like the opening to a really bad joke," House said.

"That's what this whole thing has been," Wilson said. "A really bad joke."

"I'm not laughing," House said.

"Look," Wilson said, cautiously. "I don't know where things stand right now between you and Cuddy. I know you were pretty angry with her. But she's your champion right now. She defended you. And if she gets fired, it's because of her loyalty to you."

House scratched his beard, gave a useless nod that Wilson couldn't see, and said nothing.

#####

An hour later, about 10 pm, there was a knock on Cuddy's door.

She opened it. House was standing there, holding a bottle of scotch.

"I'm told this is necessary," he said, waving the liquor at her. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his bottle of vicodin: "Or possibly this."

"I'm not in the mood for jokes, House," she said, wearily.

"Who's joking?"

And without waiting for an invitation, he slipped past her inside.

The last two times he'd seen her she seemed successively less put together: Tonight she was wearing sweats and a threadbare U of Michigan burnout tee. She hadn't even attempted to brush her hair, which fell in loose and girlish curls around her face, and she had on no makeup. He felt a strange stir—different from the permanent hard-on he generally had for her—something more tender, protective.

"I heard about the board meeting," he said, fishing through her cupboards to find suitable glasses. There were no shot glasses, but he found a couple of juice glasses and filled those to the brim.

He handed her one.

"I recommend chugging" he said.

She gave a "what the hell" shrug and took a large gulp.

He nodded, impressed, and followed suit.

"So what are we going to do?"

She gave an ironic laugh, sat on the couch. This time, instead of sitting across from her, he sat right next to her.

"What are _we_ going to do?" she said. "_We're_ not going to do anything. I'm going to lose my job."

"No, you're not."

"House, you couldn't save your own job. You think you can save mine?"

"Yes, because individually, we are weak and puny. Together, we are strong and mighty. Also, Wilson said he'd quit, too."

"We'd just lose," she said. "No one can fight Vogler and his millions."

She put her head in her hands.

"I totally lost it today," she said. "I mean, in all my years in college, med school, as a hospital administrator, I've never behaved like that to an authority figure before. I was… unhinged."

"Sorry I missed it," House said, grinning at her. "Sounds like fun."

"It was like. . .being you for 15 minutes!" she said, suddenly laughing.

"Liberating isn't it?" he said.

"A bit. Until the part where you lose your job."

"Yeah, that part sucks."

He peered at her out of the side of his eyes.

"Wilson says you were defending me," he said.

"I was," she said.

"What changed? A few days ago, you were giving me sobering lectures on the need for compromise."

"I don't know," she said, honestly. "I just realized that I didn't want to be on Vogler's side. I wanted to be on your side."

"Because you like me better?" he said, smiling.

"Obviously that. Vogler's a tool. But also because you're right. You're the good guy here."

"That's not what Vogler said," House said.

"Meaning?

"I bumped into him in the hallway, before D-Day. He said, and I quote"—here, he did an approximation of Vogler's smug, basso-baritone voice—'I find in these sorts of scenarios, the better man usually prevails.'"

"No way," she said. "I put up with you for a reason, House. I respect you. Not just your medical gifts, but your integrity."

"I respect you too," he said.

"Shut up!" she said, flirtily. "Don't placate me."

"I'm not," he said.

She looked back at him and saw something unexpected in his eyes: sincerity.

"I admire you, Cuddy," House said. "I don't say it often enough because. . . well, then I'd have to kill you. But you're. . . an amazing woman."

"To amazing women," she said, raising her glass, and laughing dryly. "May the other ones out there be able to hang onto their jobs."

They clinked.

They both finished their drinks and House poured two more. It was late. They were sitting close. Cuddy had been watching TV in the bedroom—CNN or some other 24-hour news channel. They couldn't make out the voices or sounds, it almost served as background music.

Finally, cautiously, House said,

"Wilson also says that Vogler said you were. . . in love with me,"

"Geez, did he read you the entire minutes?" she said, startled.

"No. . just the salient points. So. . .are you?"

"Am I love in with you?"

"Yes."

"In college I thought I was," she said, reflectively. "You kind of broke my heart, Gregory House. Now, it's more complicated than that. Some days I think I do love you. Some days I want to wring your neck. But you definitely do. . . excite me."

"You excite me, too," he said, tilting his face toward her.

"Yeah?" she said. She knew what was happening. They both knew what was happening.

"In fact, I'm extremely excited right now," he whispered.

"Me too," she admitted.

And he leaned in and kissed her, gently at first, then with more pressure. Then his tongue was in her mouth—soft and probing— and his hands were on her face and he was reaching under her burnout tee and groping for her bare skin.

She paused for a second, trying to get her bearings, catch her breath, before falling down the rabbit hole with him.

"Wait," she said. "Are we really doing this?"

"Oh hell yes," he said. And he picked her up—he was surprisingly strong, even without the use of his bad leg; he lifted her like a feather—and carried her to the bedroom.

Once there, House seemed intent to kiss, lick, suck, bite, and fondle every inch of her flesh, perhaps for fear he'd never get this chance again. He was maximizing his own pleasure—and hers.

"Mmmmmm," she moaned, as he lapped between her legs, knowing just where to flick and probe, knowing just where to press, where to linger.

When she orgasmed, it made her feel temporarily limp and liquid, like her whole body was made of molasses.

"Wow," she said, sighing. Then, because she couldn't think of anything to say, she repeated: "Wow."

He smiled proudly, still between her legs, his mouth glistening with her fluids.

"I figured after I got you fired, the least I could do is give you a mind-blowing orgasm," he said.

She reached between his legs. His jeans were already unsnapped—had she done that? had he? —and she pulled him out.

His breathing got heavier as her hand gripped his shaft and she bent toward him.

"Right back at you," she said, as he leaned back and groaned.

####

Afterwards, they lay in bed, naked, barely coherent, like they had both just taken really amazing muscle relaxers.

"If I had to get fired just so we could do that, it was all worth it," he said.

"Agreed," she giggled.

"How am I ever supposed to concentrate on anything besides fucking you ever again?" he said, nibbling her ear.

"You'll manage," she said, resting her head on his chest.

He stroked her hair, idly, which she found to be a surprisingly tender and romantic gesture. Gregory House: full of surprises.

"We're good together," he said.

"That's an understatement."

"Which is how I know that together, we'll be able to take down Voldemort. I mean, Vogler."

"I'm all ears," she said.

"Give me a few minutes," he said. "I need to recover some brain function."  
#####

An hour before the emergency board meeting to terminate the dean of medicine, there was a hastily assembled _pre_-emergency board meeting, invitation only—that invitation, not surprisingly, did not include one Edward Vogler—hosted by Drs. Gregory House and Lisa Cuddy.

House and Cuddy sat at the head of the table together ("I wish I had a pet white cat I could stroke, like a Bond villain," he whispered to her and she smiled, thinking how much happier she was, how much more _right_ it seemed, to be his partner in crime), as the rest of the board shuffled in, curious, gripping Styrofoam cups of coffee, slightly annoyed by the time change.

"This better be good House," one of the board members grumbled, taking his seat.

"Lovely to see you, too, Cooper," House replied cheerfully.

When they were all settled, it was Cuddy who spoke first.

"I appreciate you all coming here on such short notice. And I'm so glad you share my sense that we all need to talk privately. Because what I'm going to ask you for is tough, and believe me, I don't request it lightly. The thing is. . ."

"We want you to give up 100 million dollars," House said, matter of factly.

A collective murmur went through the room.

"Let me explain," Cuddy said, holding up her hand. "I know this seems self-serving. Like, I want my job back and House wants his job back. But it's much more than that. Look at what we've become! We're not a hospital anymore. We're not a community. We're Edward Vogler's puppets."

"Or, to put it more succinctly," House said. "You've all sold your souls to the devil."

"So what are you two proposing?" one trustee said, skeptically.

"Turning our back on him," Cuddy said. "Refusing his money."

"We could build a whole cancer wing with his money!" one boardmember protested. "Buy the most state-of-the-art laser surgery equipment! New beds! New monitors! New furniture in the lounges!"

"Yes, that's all true," Cuddy said. "But think about it: In the brief time he's been here, he blackmailed House into shilling for his pharmaceutical company, fired House, fired me. What's next? Replacing the board? Replacing the doctors with ones more willing to pimp his meds?"

"Once a guy like that has got you by the short hairs, he never lets go," House added. "He just grips tighter."

"That's why we're proposing that we recuse Edward Vogler of his role as chairman of the board," Cuddy said.

"And when did you two come up with this proposal?" someone said.

House and Cuddy looked at each other, guiltily. (It had been about 4 am, after their third time having sex—doggy style, this time—but that didn't seem appropriate to share.)

"Last night," Cuddy said.

"Over, uh, dinner," House said. "While we were both fully clothed."

Cuddy kicked him. Was he capable of taking _anything_ seriously?

"Vogler was right," one trustee said. "You two _are _sleeping together."

"Completely irrelevant to the matter at hand," House said. "Which is: Do we all want to be Edward Vogler's little bitches?"

"I'm suggesting that we become what we were before," Cuddy said. "We may not have been the richest hospital, but we had integrity. We knew who were. We could be proud of the work we did here."

"We need to discuss this amongst ourselves," said Gary Kruger, the board vice president. "We're going to ask you two to step into the hall."

"We understand," Cuddy said.

They both stood up, but House hesitated.

"No matter how you may feel about me, don't punish Dr. Cuddy," he said. "She's the best dean in the country. Nobody works harder. Nobody could love their hospital, their doctors, their patients more than she does. If you want to keep me fired, fine. I'm a liability, I know that. But Dr. Cuddy deserves your loyalty."

"Thank you, Dr. House," Kruger said.

Outside in the hall, House and Cuddy stood, side by side. The doors were thick, they couldn't hear a word. There was nothing they could do but wait.

"I thought that went. . . pretty well," House said.

"We made our case," Cuddy said. "Either they agree of they don't."

Then she smiled at him, "Do you really think I'm the best dean in the country?"

"Best looking, for sure," he said.

She swatted him.

"Just kidding. I think you perform daily miracles at this place."

She smiled, somewhat dirtily.

"The good news? When this is all over and done with, no matter what the verdict, we're either going to have great celebratory sex or great consolation sex."

"You are quite possibly the perfect woman," he said, looking at her adoringly.

Just then, one of the junior board members poked her head out of the door.

"They're ready for you," she said.

House looked at Cuddy, inhaled a bit:

"Let's do this thing."

#######

Half an hour later, Edward Volger marched into the conference room, filled with the impatient bluster of an important man.

"Glad to see you're all assembled already," he said, surveying the room.

Then he spotted House.

"What the hell is he doing here?" he hissed.

"I got lost again," House said.

"Gary, what's going on?" Vogler demanded to Kruger.

"We held a private meeting," Kruger said.

"I didn't authorize any private meetings!"

"No. You wouldn't in this case. Since you were the subject of this private meeting."

"How dare you? I'm going to find out who was behind this and have them fired!"

"I was," Cuddy said, raising her hand.

"Me too," House said, raising his.

"The point is, Edward. The board came to a conclusion. And that conclusion is: We're sick of being your"—he turned to House—"how did you put it?"

"Little bitches," House said, helpfully.

"We're sick of being your little bitches. We're reinstating Dr. Cuddy, mostly because she's a brilliant dean of medicine. But also because she's the only administrator in the country who can rein in Dr. House, who we're reinstating as well."

Cuddy, who was sitting next to House, gave him a tiny squeeze of the hand under the table.

"This is outrageous! If you think you're seeing one penny of my 100 million, you're delusional!" Vogler spat out.

"Good," Kruger said. "Because the trustees have determined that we don't want to be in the Edward Vogler business anymore. You've been voted out as chairman of the board."

Vogler folded his arms, and gave a frustrated little huff.

"You're going to regret this. You got played by Dr. House and Dr. Cuddy, I don't know what kind of sorcery they performed on you, what kind of duet of deception."

"Oooh, duet of deception," House whispered to Cuddy, arching his eyebrows. "I like that."

"But they played you," Vogler continued. As he spoke, little bits of spittle were flying from his mouth. "And in a few days, maybe a few weeks, you're going to look around and realize that you let 100 million dollars fly out of the window."

"And we're all going to sleep a helluva lot better at night," Kruger said.

"Preach!" House said.

"Don't look so cocky, House," Vogler said, glaring him.

"Actually, my face always looks like this," House quipped.

"It's true, it does," Cuddy said, merrily. Then she turned to Vogler: "I will say this. You were right about one thing."

"Oh yeah?" Vogler said suspiciously. "What's that?"

"The better man did win."

THE END


End file.
